Family Inheritance
by Ellis1
Summary: Artemis Fowl finds out who his father really is.Crossover between Hp and Artemis Fowl (this means AU, technically), starring...Guess who? Unexpected character from the Hp series. Please r&r.
1. Prologue

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I own nothing except the interpretation of the characters' views. 

I had nothing to do and inspiration has left my mind. This is all that's left. I blame the thin line between genius and insanity. Please R&R!

The wind whipped at his face; the cold passed through his bones. Yet he did not shiver. His composure remained calm and controlled, waiting.

He had waited for this for too long.

It was no secret to him now. He had found his father. Everything made sense-and yet nothing made sense at all. The world was a just a twisted character, throwing fates and mixing them with lust, love and hate. And so was the fate of his father.

To lust power,

To love only secretly,

And to hate virtually everything.

Still, he remained perfectly still, not a movement; not a blink. Waiting.

All to suddenly a figure appeared a metre or so in front of him, seeming just an older version of the boy himself.

Both tall and thin, jet-black hair and matching robes in great contrast to their pale skin, blue eyes glinting coldly, they stood face to face.

The wizard put away his wand, tired already from the apparating, but still amazed at how the boy's manner was the same as his own still is, even though they spent practically no time together.

Before going on one of his outings, he had told his son to meet him here. Everything would be explained; all the things the youngster found out would be justified.

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Fowl. He had discovered it had been his mother's maiden name, and continued the noble line after her; after he killed his own father of course.

Tom Riddle indeed. More like Artemis Fowl the first.

And they had said he couldn't harm a soul.

He had become the great Lord Voldermort, all mighty and powerful, respected and feared. He was the only one who had achieved immortality. He was the only wizard to be able to completely control the Dark Arts. Yet, he still loved his son, his heir.

And right here in front of him he stood. A direct descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin, aka Salazar Lucius Serpentine Fowl, the first.

How many history books had been fooled? How many lies had been told? Still, his son, a genius by nature, with the highest IQ in Europe, had discovered his true identity. This only further proved how able he was to someday take over his father's ruling position: Minister of Magic.

"Father," was the only word that broke the silence that had descended since the taller individual had arrived.

The taller man gave a dangerous smile, one that would send shivers down any normal person's spine. Of course, his son wasn't normal by any definition, and the smile was returned. Still running through the family, they both acknowledged.

"Hello, Artemis, my son."


	2. Memories

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Because all of you asked so nicely, this is my attempt at trying to continue this story. In the meantime, if any of you know where my muse has run off to, could you please inform me? Oh yes, of course, what little plot there is the only thing I own.

"On this day I make my pledge: to strive always for the greater good, in cunning, ambition, bravery, wits and loyalty, and be ruthless in my quest, fearless and selfless through whatever it takes."

The blade glittered, perfect shining steel glinting in the dim light of both their wands.

They both finished the pledge together, as the lightning shape was cut into each of their dominant palms.

"And I pledge together with you, that I will in no circumstances leave your side, but my power will be present always, through this bond of blood. All for one and one for all, a duo, together always."

They joined their hands now, and could feel the sharp power and their bloodlines mixed, their inherited powers joined. They could at once feel the mental link, feel each other's presence, as sweet as sugar, as light as rain, as soft as silk. The words echoed in their heads for long after, each recognising the magnitude of what they were now bound to do.

Together always.

***

So much could happen in a year. A year ago we had met, a year ago our friendship had been banned, as we went to fight for different sides. I changed sides, of course. You could see Artemis wasn't…enjoying himself in the dark side. I joined him there, and we soon had made a pact, the one that would turn to be the most important one in our lives. We had different reasons, or so we insisted, but deep down we were too alike for anything to really matter. 

I saw Albus, the great Albus Dumbledore - dear Albus, getting weaker after each attack, as more of his energy was spent. I saw him die, slowly but surely, and it seemed like I was the only one. He never let his pretence down in front of the others, the pretence that he was there, and he would win for our side. Alas, I still remember the words he told them, how shocked they were, how it seemed so sudden to them all, and I was glad they suffered as much as they did, all because they hadn't listened to me.

***

"Please, sit, all of you." Dumbledore requested with a whisper, before letting out a quiet cough.

They were all here, The Order of the Phoenix, under one of the mounds near Woodhenge. It was the first time Dumbledore let any of them see him as he was: a sick, dying old man. Any of them except Harry, that is.

"I have called you all here today for one reason, and I am afraid to say, one that will affect our whole operation." Dumbledore looked at all of them in turn, sitting in a circle like King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, his eyes lingering on the Boy Who Lived.

"I am dying, my friends." He whispered. 

Shock seemed to spread through to almost every last person, yet Dumbledore continued before anyone could speak up.

"I have been dying for a long time," he coughed again, this time for a bit longer, "and I cannot keep this secret from any of you much longer. Any longer, in fact. My time has come-"

The room-if it could be called that-erupted with protests, and outrages, and exclamations of disbelief. The most prominent of all feelings that seemed to be taking over the entire order, though, was the unmistakable ping of sadness. 

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore exclaimed, with much effort, while coughing even more. "Do not waste time and grieve for me. My only request is that you appoint Harry as leader-my successor if you wish- on his sixteenth birthday. I advise you to elect someone for the year until then. I have taught him well, and he is wise beyond his years, and I advise you to listen to him." His voice had been fading gradually, so that the last sentence was whispered into the numb silence of the stone chamber.

Someone tried to speak up again; it sounded like one of the few younger members- maybe Hermione, or Ron, but Dumbledore silenced him or her with his blue eyes, bare without his trademark twinkle.

"A lot is still to be done for our battle to be won. Like I said, worry not about me. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure." As he said this, Dumbledore looked at Harry, and the twinkle in his eyes resurfaced for a moment as he smiled. Harry smiled back, respectfully, as he remembered when Dumbledore had first said that to him, as he lay in the hospital wing in his first year.

Then Albus Dumbledore - Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards, Headmaster of Hogwarts, the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared and respected, and one of the greatest wizard of all time - stepped back, and was instantly consumed by a great raging flame. Alas, he didn't emerge as a baby from the flames, like Fawkes did, and all that was left of this old, old wizard was a pile of ashes and a soft light breeze that seemed to whisper goodbye.

***

Fawkes had come to me then, and tied to his leg had been a parcel neatly wrapped in plain brown parchment, with my name written elegantly on with a rich green ink that seemed all too familiar. Inside the parcel were a letter from Albus, giving me ownership of Fawkes, and Albus' diary, which was enchanted to never run out of pages, and which he had been writing in since he was 7. There was also another diary, one for me to write in, also enchanted to never run out of pages, and because Albus asked, I write in it from time to time. He was right, even if for the last time. 

It does help.

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A/N: I am aware this is AU, I'll try to update the summary. Ideas for what happens next are always welcome. Yes, that means pressing the button. Press the review button.

Oh, I wrote the first chapter after reading the second AF, haven't read the third one yet, alas!

Thanks for all the reviews and ideas, my kind people, and if you like Harry Potter, do pop over to Deep Within (at least there I know what will happen-eventually).

In the next chapter: I'm thinking about some lessons inside Hogwarts, our not-so-great introduction to the ICOW, and a few helpful focus group meetings. Any objections?


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